He runs into the woods alone, sad from what he's seen. He runs and runs through the greens, wondering for the future what it means.

Slowly he walks home, a cave hidden in the trees. He lets soft cries of sadness get lost in the breeze.

He lays down, head low, the sadness in his heart continues to grow. Large warm tears form and fall, sadness running deep.

Slowly, the bear cries himself to sleep

I want someone to look me in the eyes
like nothing else matters

I want to wake up to him
or a text from him or something more
than the empty feeling in my chest

I want someone to share random thoughts with

I want him to pull me into
his jacket and zip us up inside

I want to talk to someone
about theories, ethics, words,
the universe and more

I want someone to call me at one in the morning
and tell me to look at Polaris

I want him to pick me up unexpectedly
and make me laugh hysterically until I snort

I want someone to trade literature with,
sleep in with, cuddle with

I want someone to miss me when we're apart

Don't be mad at me when I lie to you
Tell you I'm okay
The days that are bad are the days that I'm smiling
******* laughing at my blood
Stab me, stop being kind
Only spend time with people who hurt me
Use me, hit me, pick me apart, crush me
Don't ask me what I ate or if I drank
Don't be mad at me when I lie to you
Laugh you off, flip my hair
Don't let the pretty colors fool you
I'm not the church girl you think I am
Don't let the brains fool you
I'm not the try hard you think I am
Don't let the smiles fool you
I don't have a cure
Don't be mad at me when I lie to you
And tell you I'm fine

Before you fall in love with a suicidal girl
Don't.
Suicide can not be romanticized and though she might idolize you
Remember that you may not be enough.
Remember that this world may never be enough.
Demons don't just go away, sometimes they just hide in the shadows.
And even at the highest noon they are there. Just smaller. The sun will go down.
She will always have shadows.
Remember that no matter what you do
You are irrelevant in her master plan.
She will plan out her letters in your arms.
When she is silent hold her. Make her know that she is loved, it may not be enough but those few moments in your arms might make her think twice.
But don't assume for one second you will be her savior.
When you see cuts on her wrists do not beg her to stop.
She won't.
She will cut deeper for letting you see her weak.
She will try to be strong.
She will put on a show for you. She will make you forget she was ever depressed.
Remember that sunsets can make you forget that night is bound to follow.
Know that night will follow.
When you get her final love letter to you
Ignore the fact that it is stained in blood.
Do not pour your precious time.into wondering if she suffered.
She will write her apologies in her best handwriting.
Do not read it.
Get in your car and drive.
Drive to the nearest bar and read the letter through hazy bloodshot eyes.
Do not blame yourself.
Do not look for moments you could have done something different.
It'll drive you crazy.
Before you fall in love with a suicidal girl.
Don't.

To the girls who are secretly so broken
You WILL be alright
I know you have scars on your soul
Maybe your heart
Possibly your wrists
None of this is your fault
And even if you think it is
Let it go
Not that you can, that easily
But try
I know you are broken
I know you're not okay
Especially when people ask how you are and you answer "I'm fine"
When what you really mean is "I'm alive"
But what do you really care about your own survival anymore
Well I just want you to know
There is beauty in broken glass
And to me
There is immeasurable beauty
In broken girls
So don't you ever forget
You cannot be defined by pain
You're too beautiful for that
Stay strong, broken girl
Nothing is ever really broken

She took my heart and tore it apart.
She told me to die, little did she know it was my plan from the start.
She wanted this, she won't miss who I was.
She won't, because no one ever does.
She thought it was for attention, but I never told.
Now I'll be gone and regret she'll hold.

One cut for the words she said.
Two cuts for not being dead.
Three for the chance to end me.
Four and I'm finally free.
Five for the tears falling from my eyes.
Six for the endless cries.
Seven for the pain behind the smile.
Eight for going the extra mile.
Nine for the black clouding my eyes.
Ten for the mother who wishes her daughter dies.

Yes, I have scars.
They're part of who I am.
I didn't see them comming.
but earned them all the same.
They're not always appearent.
Some are hidden, some are not.
But trust me, "I still feel them"
with every passing storm.
The scars I have inside me
by far haunt me the worst.
They keep my heart from your heart
a cowards shield and curse.

Baby you looked surprised, I wasn’t telling you lies. I can touch the back. I got one thing on my mind, shivers up and down your spine, you quiver. Me on top of you, turn things around, you looking back. Coming one after another, from different points of view, imagine that. Read between the lines, and found you; sitting on my lap. kept crossing my mind, uncross your legs, red your lips; love doing that. Spread your legs, relax your hips, and lean back. I take a sip, a little lick, then a kiss - now that's that. I grind your hips, you like that? My tongue, flicks your tip, you like this; you bite your lip, your waist lifts. Your pleasure. My bliss.

I carry my backpack, and the addition thirty pounds of stress that goes along with it.
I carry an MP3 player, filled with 1500 songs that make more sense to me than any math lesson ever has.
I carry a necklace from the 1800's that no one in my family cares enough about to remember who it originally belonged to. We both carry the feeling of being passed along.
I carry a notebook with letters I'll never have the nerve to send. I carry a pen that's been through more with me than any of my friends.
I carry my scraped knees and a tendency to fall to the waste side.
I carry my father's temper like a hot coal in the pit of my stomach. I carry his high expectations and my mother's victim complex. All three of which are, apparently, hereditary.
I carry Chapstick, Neosporin, and band-aids. Because things crack, and things break, and some things tend to cut.
I carry the same mindset as an Oxford comma and a worry of being replaced. We both carry the feeling of not really mattering.
I carry my uncle's divorce, & the way we buried him only a year after the papers were signed. I carry the way his ex wife's grudge is stronger than her children's love for their family.
I carry the dream catcher my dad keeps in his room, the one I got rid of years ago when I realized nothing would keep my nightmares away.
I carry the time my hero had his heart broken and spent the next year at the bottom of a bottle.
I carry the headstone that marks the beginning of my abandonment issues.
I carry a .037 fl oz tube of eyeliner in the hopes that no one will mess with a girl who always looks like she has two black eyes.
I carry a pre-med major that will never make me as happy as it will make my parents. I carry my family's hopes on my back & the way I feel like an emergency room with no more room left for patients.
I carry my best friend's name like an obituary I never got to read. I carry the way his head hit his windshield faster than it ever hit my lap, and the way I've hated sitting in the driver's seat ever since. I carry the way I never want to be invited to another funeral & the way each body they've buried makes me feel like I'm already 6 feet under.
I carry the mattress I slept on as a child. Pink flowers & blue satin & cold sweats detergent couldn't fade. The one I spent an entire afternoon scrubbing bloodstains out of, hoping my mother wouldn't notice when she changed the sheets. She never did, or at least she never asked, and sometimes I still wish she had.
I carry how my friend thinks her high school boyfriend breaking up with her is the worst that could happen, and the way I hope she always does.